Rain Will Wash Away the Tears
by Twilit Lady of Majesty
Summary: It's the second day before the moon inevitably crushes Termina and everything within it, and the Postman is doing nothing but delivering mail. Love manages to squeeze it's way into his repetitive routine, resulting in the death of one who's loved by many. RATED T FOR: death and dark themes


The postman never fancied anyone. Never felt _feelings_ towards another. Never... _lusted_ for a companion. His lack of interest kept him focused on the rigorous tasks set before him. Delivering the mail.

Today was a typical day. Rain falling from the cloudy sky, construction continuing on the tower for the festival. The postman had nothing to complain about. This was usual.

His eyes drifted up the tall figure being built, but he continued on his way. The sound of hammers and electric drills hardly penetrated the man's wall of focus. The mail had to be delivered.

"Good morning, Postman!" Greets a boy bearing a mask frequently called the 'Keaton Mask', on his face.

"Good morning," the postman repeats back, shoving mail into the box, and then scurrying off. More mailboxes to be filled. More mail to be received.

Rain splatted happily against the postman's forehead, running down past his eyes, and off of his chin. This did not distract him one bit. _Oh no_, nothing can distract the postman from his daily routine. It was _vital_, that he finish his path. Mail's important, you know.

He slid the letters into the box, paying no mind to the woman exiting from the Stockpot Inn.

"He- Hello Postman," she says, swiping at her cheeks. The postman hesitates while turning, and looks at the woman.

"Is something wrong, Miss Anju?"

"No, I just wanted to say good morning." And that was when the postman was hit by the goddess-like looks of Anju. Her ocean blue eyes shining with tears, red hair perfectly styled. She was beautiful.

The postman swallows nervously. What should he do? This woman is obviously sad. She needs comforting. But isn't she engaged to Kafei? Well... They're at least dating. But he isn't here! Maybe he should take this chance to help her.

"Are-" The postman clears his throat," what's wrong?" The woman shuffles over to the man who delivers mail, and wraps her arms around him. Such interactions were foreign to the postman, he simply stood until she was finished.

"I- I- I c- c- can't find K- K- Kafei," she sobs, shoving herself into the arms of the postman, yet again. Her choppy and abrupt breaths shake the man she's clinging to. It worries him, a bit. Tears are beginning to leak through his shirt.

"Well," he places a hand on the woman's back," everything will turn out okay." Her arms tighten around him, and he's pulled closer to Anju.

"I- I- I- don't kn- kn- know, Postman," she says, the words muffled by the thin fabric of the postman's clothes.

Before replying, the man begins scanning the surroundings over her shoulder, eventually resting his eyes on the mailbox. The mailbox. He was delivering mail! His routine!

"Miss Anju, I really must get going. I have mail to deliver," The postman says, sliding out of the female's grip," I'm so sorry. I really am. I could come visit tonight, or tomorrow. But the mail is important today, Miss Anju."

Her eyes meet his, and with a short, forced nod, she runs a hand through her hair, and floats back inside.

Today was important. The world will end tomorrow. Mail must be delivered.

The postman launches back into his deliver path, ready to deliver more mail. Yet, the distraction of Anju's sorrow has caused him to be a bit unfocused. His eyes hold on to the surroundings longer, his pace slowed.

The rain has not let up. The water droplets still fall in sheets from the clouds above. For some reason, the clouds do not manage to cover the moon. Its ominous facial expression and awkward, slow movement towards the town manage to shine through the ever-so-friendly rainclouds.

The postman stops before the final mailbox. He feels around inside, to check for letters. None. He slides the mail to be received, in, and gets on his way.

Where to? He could visit Anju. Console her. Help her through this _terrible_ time. He could wander the streets, looking busy, but simply enjoying the scenery. Or, he could return to his home, just outside of the city.

Without a second thought, the postman takes off for the Stockpot Inn.

* * *

"Anju?" He calls, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Yes?" She replies, flying out to the reception desk. Her eyes are puffy, just as before, but a smile plays across her mouth.

"I've come to check on you," the postman says, approaching the woman.

"Ah yes. You know, I- I actually got a letter from him." Done. The postman's ambitions have been crushed. No more Anju for him. No more lovely blue eyes. No more soft red hair. None.

"That's," he coughs, putting on a smile," that's great!"

She flicks a few tears from her cheeks, and nods excitedly. The two stand in silence, after the enthused reply. One completely, and utterly happy, the other growing increasingly depressed as the time passes.

"Well, Miss Anju," the postman starts, rubbing the back of his neck, and looking up at her," I better get going."

"Okay, Postman. Thanks for coming to check on me. It was very thoughtful." The postman nodded at that, gave a slight wave, and exited the building.

What to do. What _to do_.

The rain has not let up, despite time's slow approach towards midnight. The heavy droplets hit the postman with a satisfactory splash. Satisfactory for the rain, that is.

His feet drag through each puddle, causing a small wake around the shoe. The water doesn't soak through these shoes, or even affect their ability to not slip. It's odd, but good.

Soon enough, the postman finds himself before the clock tower. No one ever ventures beneath the tower. No one wants to.

Curiosity gets the best of the postman, and he pushes through the heavy wooden doors.

* * *

"Hello!" A voice cheerfully greets from somewhere in the dark. The postman jumps back, slamming his back against the door.

"No need to be alarmed, do not fear, MY FRIEND," the shadowy figure says. Light footsteps are amplified in the hollow belly of the clock tower.

"Who- who are you?" The postman asks, fearful for his life. This must be why no one comes beneath here.

"Why, I'm the Happy Mask Salesman! A lone traveler. A man of my own devices, if you might say," he says, sliding towards the postman, perched atop the staircase.

"Wh- why are you d- down here?" The postman clenches his fists, ready to fight, if the situation calls for it.

A wild cackle escapes the man's throat, piercing the dusty, old air beneath the tower," I live here, my boy!" His face emerges from the depths of the room, allowing the postman to finally see who he's talking to. A wide smile is plastered across the face of the man conversing with him.

"Now may I ask," he's closer, the Happy Mask Salesman, to the postman. His breath reeks of sour milk and rotten fish. "Why are YOU here? You're intruding on my home, you know."

The postman coughs, still skeptical of this odd man's intentions," I'm here, because..." Why was he here? Why did he venture into the nasty, old building no one likes? Why? Hurry up, he's getting impatient. Oh goddess, hurry up, why was he here?

"I was curious," the postman says, smiling nervously.

"Ah, reason enough," the Happy Mask Salesman says, bounding back down to the floor below," come join me, I have tea." His eyes blink, but the smile does not fade.

"I really better be going, Mr..."

"Happy Mask Salesman."

"Yes yes, I really better be going, Mr. Happy Mask Salesman," the postman begins to push the door open, droplets of rain flying in.

"Nah, you should say awhile, _my friend_. I feel something is _troubling_ you."

How did he know? Has he been watching the postman? He wouldn't doubt it, this man's creepy enough for living beneath an old clock.

The postman allows the door to fall shut, and he turns back towards the Happy Mask Salesman.

"Come. Come sit and enjoy some tea with me."

* * *

"So what _actually_ brought you here?" The Happy Mask Salesman questions, sipping from the broken china.

"I was just curious, really."

"Ah, but why were you out, at such a late hour?"

The postman blinks at the man sitting across from him, allowing his eyes to linger on his permanent smile," I was visiting a friend."

The Happy Mask Salesman erupts into laughter," I knew it! It was a female, wasn't it? A girl you fancy. One you care for. Wasn't it?"

The postman nods with hesitation. Who know's what this odd fellow could be thinking.

"Well, how'd it go? Judging by your attitude since you arrived, it didn't go as well as you planned."

"Well, I'm the postman around these parts."

"Yes I know, I know. I see you fetch the mail from the mailbox every day."

The postman sucks a nervous breath in. He has been watching him... "I was delivering mail, like usual. And, I had arrived at the Stockpot inn, to of course, deliver mail, when Anju," he gets caught up on his words, choking back tears of joy and sorrow," the most beautiful woman I've ever set eyes on, comes outside." The Happy Mask Salesman snickers, following it up with a sip of oddly scented tea.

"I greet her, when she envelopes me in a hug. She's crying, and I can't do anything to help, and," the postman stops talking, focusing his eyes on the face of his listener," well, I come back later, and when I thought I was going to get to know her better, it turns out that she was happy again. My chances with her are ruined."

"I can help you," the Happy Mask Salesman says immediately after the postman finishes.

"How?" The postman asks, growing skeptical of the odd man. Thunder roars outside.

The Happy Mask Salesman glances around, and then leans close to the postman," murder."

"Mur-"

"Stop!" The Happy Mask Salesman shouts, clapping a hand over the postman's mouth," just go with it. If you murder Anju, everything will work out."

"But she'll be dead."

"Ah, that's where my help comes into play. See, I know how to... _bring_ people back from death. It's a complicated process, it'd bore you to tears. Anyways, once she's dead, you bring her body here, at night. I'll bring her back to life, she'll think you did it. You'll get the girl, and everything will work out."

The postman doesn't hesitate," I'll do it."

The Happy Mask Salesman chuckles," I expected a hasty reply from you. But you don't know what your _payment_ will be."

"I'll do it anyways."

"You don't want to know what it's going to cost you?"

"I'm _taking_ the deal," the postman was growing impatient. He wanted to stop the negotiations and have Anju for himself.

"Fine, we shake on it," the Happy Mask Salesman says, extending a hand. The postman takes it in his own, and shakes.

"Good, now you better be off, my boy. The morning is growing near, if you don't do it tonight, it won't happen, and the deal is off."

The postman never intended to meet Anju. He never meant to fall in love. Never wanted to murder someone, but if it means finally getting the his love, and possibly settling down with children, he'll do anything.

* * *

There she was, sleeping peacefully beneath her covers, nothing but a light breath making noise. She was beautiful.

The postman looks down at the knife in his hand, and tenses up. This could give him his love. This could give him Anju forever. It's worth it.

The postman slides the window open, not worried about the light drizzle of rain. He slinks into the room, clutching the knife tight against his chest. What if she wakes? Ridiculous. She's always so busy. She won't wake. But what if? She won't.

He steps forward in slow motion, biting the inside of his cheek, to prevent himself from sighing loudly.

There she is, before the postman, sleeping soundly. She's stunning. Her perfect red hair creating a wavy frame around her thin facial features. Her lips slightly parted, eyes shut. This murder will be worth it, stop worrying.

He pulls the knife away from himself with hesitation. Should he really do it? Nonsense. The Happy Mask Salesman promised she would live again.

With one swift movement, he brings it down on her chest, blood hardly appearing with the collision. He cringes and stabs once again, biting back tears. This wasn't worth it.

Her eyes shoot open, and her mouth forms a scream. The postman, slams his hand over her lips, halting the alerting noise. This was stupid. He shouldn't have taken the deal.

The postman stabs again, and Anju is silenced. He weeps over her body for a moment, removing his hand to clear tears from his cheeks. He shouldn't have taken the deal.

* * *

"Here she is," the postman says, putting the woman before the Happy Mask Salesman.

"Now, we wait." The Happy Mask Salesman says, not bothering to look at the dead body before him.

"But, you told me tonight!" The postman shouts, infuriated by the fact that the weird man stalking about the room isn't keeping to his word.

"Yes, but I never said when I'd bring her back to life."

The postman groans. He does have a point.

The ground shakes, and the tenth chime of the clock reverberates down the tower.

"Almost time, Postman."

An entire day passed. An entire day without delivering mail. An entire day spent with this psychopath. An entire day sitting next to a dead body. An entire day without Anju.

"We have two hours to wait." The Happy Mask Salesman says, smiling in the postman'a direction.

Time doesn't pass quickly when you're waiting for something, and in this moment, that's how it was for the postman. The day had gone along long enough. And just two long, painful hours await.

"So how did you carry out the murder. I forgot to ask earlier."

"I-" tears reform in his eyes," I stabbed her. Three times." The postman wipes at his face.

"Good good, then most of her body will be preserved."

The postman shoots a confused, and worried glance at the Happy Mask Salesman.

"Don't worry," he chuckles," she'll be all together and fine, no wounds."

The clock begins to strike it's bells again. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Ah, one hour remaining," the Happy Mask Salesman says. Six times. A seventh. Eight. Nine. A tenth time. The postman grows more excited with each chime of the bell. Eleven.

"Quick, boy. We only have an hour. Being me her body," the Happy Mask Salesman says, waving him over. The postman nods and retrieves the dead Anju.

The Happy Mask Salesman takes her by the hand, and drags her close, suddenly next to a large organ.

"Wh- where'd that come fr-"

"Don't ask questions."

The rest of the hour passed quickly. The Happy Mask Salesman worked furiously, wrapping bandages around the wound, and occasionally playing a few notes on the keyboard.

With each passing moment, the postman grew more worried that his love wouldn't live again.

The bell begins to chime.

"Boy! Take this woman outside and wait for the clock to finish chiming! She'll awake at midnight."

"But, you said to bring her here!"

"Do as I say!"

The postman snatches Anju by the hand and rushes for the door. He stumbles, as the ground shakes.

"Hurry!"

"I'm going, Mask Man! I am!"

He forced himself on the door, and collapses outside of the tower, just as the clock strikes twelve.

* * *

The postman shoves letters into the mailbox, smiling at the clear sky above. The postman never desired a companion. He never wanted a lover. He never has, and never will.

The rain is coming tomorrow, he better hurry and get that Keaton Mask boy's letter delivered. It seems important.

_A/N_

_Wow, I've been gone for awhile. Well, here's an odd, nonsense story for all of you guys to enjoy! I always love writing a good Happy Mask Salesman fic, and this one showed his outer sort of facade that I never seem to show in my other stories (as it's always the inner, more insane part I show). Didn't proof read this, fyi. So, thanks for reading guys, happy summer!_

_-Twilit Lady of Majesty_


End file.
